


Insane

by groaar



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groaar/pseuds/groaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone defected from The First Order and someone is sent to track him down, and kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insane

**Author's Note:**

> Written while listening to “Faded” by Alan Walker. It provided me with some strange inspiration. Strange is also the correct word to describe this fic. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, far from it, but emotions took me over and I was carried far, far away. 
> 
> The fic is set sometime post-movie, but it's much undefined when. Also, I guess it's somewhat OOC. 
> 
> For those who still want to brave reading it, though, you are very welcome to do so. Be warned though, I have not proofread, English is not my first language, and be aware of that it might be a confusing read.

The morning the manhunt started was grey and heavy with rain. He could feel his boots sinking into the muddy ground as he barked out orders to the three stormtroopers accompanying him on the mission. They were wholly unnecessary, he was more than capable of dealing with the matter on his own, but the Supreme Leader had insisted, and who was he to deny such wisdom. The Supreme Leader was, after all, the one who had provided them with coordinates for this miserably small, insignificant planet. Smelly, marshy and cold. He hated it here already. 

The man snorted loudly as the first raindrops fell from the skies, soaking into his black clothing. Only he, the traitor, would seek refuge in such an obviously inconspicuous place. 

Shouting a last command to his subordinates he sat off running for the tree line. He needed to get away from the rain, he told himself, as he dashed in through a narrow opening between two thin tree trunks. Yeah. Get away from the rain, and the troopers, and the mission. He needed to get it over with. 

Determined he marched forward through the lush undergrowth of the planet. He remained unfazed by the aching cold that seeped through his now drenched clothing, undeterred despite constantly being whipped by wet branches as he violently pushed onwards. There was only one thing on his mind: to reach his target. The traitor. Him. His fingers involuntarily clamped around his weapon at the mere thought, rage rushing through his veins like a swift, paralyzing poison that refuses to let his hand unclench. 

The traitor had committed the ultimate sin: desertion. He would never forgive it. The First Order was a commitment, and one that could not simply be abandoned with ease. One did not simply walk away, yet the traitor had. He had walked, and left everything behind without even looking back. An atrocity if there ever was one. Unforgivable… He needed to be the one to find the traitor. He had to be the first to reach him. 

A sound to his left, an unnatural rustle of leafs, gave the man pause. He slowed and listened. He stared into the bushes, and while he could see no one he felt a presence. He was being watched, too. How often had they not done this? However, he would not be the one to break first. No. Not this time. Patience is a virtue; a phrase he had heard so often he was sick of it, no matter how true it was. Yet, it proved to be the correct route to walk down again, despite the bitter taste it left in his mouth, as a moment of silent observing rewarded him victory. The traitor broke first.

The traitor ran, and the man followed. Water splashed around their feet as they rushed through a small creek, running into a shady grove. The ripples they caused on the surface the only sign they had ever been there. The man, although his lungs burned with exhaustion, grabbed for his comlink and instructed the stormtroopers to regroup, as they would all need to be present for this to go down favourably. It had to go according to plan, or he would have nothing to return to. 

When the traitor slipped on a patch of slippery grass and fell, the man could not stop smiling. As the traitor did not even make an effort to get up again, the man could naught but gleefully watch the scene. Broken. That pathetic traitor was oh so broken. In a thousand pieces, and it was glorious to witness. The satisfaction was delicious. Slowly he raised his arm, pointing his weapon towards the traitor, aiming it at his head. 

“Traitor,” he hissed “I’m here to kill you.”

“I know.” 

Impassive. Dead. Unengaged. It was not right. The voice was not right, the words were not right, and it made him furious. His fingers twitched, but he remained in control still. 

“Is that all?” he roared, heat bracing his face, “A pathetic failure. Is that what you have been reduced to? Or perhaps it was all you ever were?”

This time there was a complete lack of words. When met with passivity he shook with anger. He had waited for this day, waited for it for over a year, and this was it? 

“Defend yourself!” 

It was an order. A direct order! And still the traitor refused to obey. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t! Air would not pass through. Too much fury blocked his airways. He was choking, but in a way he had not experienced before. This was loss of control, his control. He never lost it. But now he had, and he was choking on anger. He would not let it win, so he fought out a last word before he pulled the trigger. 

“Fine.” 

One shot was followed by another, and a third, all in rapid succession. Every single shot had hit target. All that remained was the faint echo of the blaster fire, resounding through the damp air around him, and the blood rushing through his head. He must be insane. He had to be. No sane person would do this. Not to another, and not to themselves. 

The traitor hesitantly shifted on the ground, angling his head slightly so that he could look at his pursuer. A face looked back at him. Familiar orange. Soft, pale skin covered in thin red lines, leaking blood. Cold eyes. 

“Hux,” he swallowed, confused dark eyes glancing over at the three dead bodies before settling back on the man left standing, “what have you done?”

“I have gone insane.”

For a moment neither moved, not until Hux’s shoulders slumped and he slowly sank down to his knees, cackling. 

“Kylo. I’ve gone insane and I will never forgive you.” 

A rough, calloused hand reached out to caress his bloodstained cheek. It was warm, big and familiar, and Hux couldn’t help but lean into it, not even when the grip painfully hardened. Then the shouting started. It always did. 

“You should have killed me!” and the grip tightened further, “I left you to rot in loneliness so that you would kill me!”

Hux had not stopped laughing, he could not stop. He laughed, manically, because he was insane. It was all Kylo’s fault. Memories of insecure hands running through his orange hair flashed before his eyes. Clumsy kisses, destructive tantrums, success, failure, emptiness and then not. Co-dependency. Maybe he had been in a downward spiral longer than he realised, not that it mattered since he was at the bottom now. He had been dragged down all the way from glory to insanity by a pathetic failure of a man.

Kylo was still not done shouting, and Hux’s ears had started hurting, so he needed to speak. So he had to stop laughing, which was good because it hurt his abdomen to laugh. 

“If you want to die, Kylo, you’re welcome to finish it yourself. I’m done doing you favours.” 

Instantly Kylo was back to calm and quiet, like he only now realised what h had been asking for. What favour he had wanted preformed. How selfishly brilliant it had been though, Hux though, had he only been able to pull through with it. Now it was merely another master plan ruined by Hux. 

“I left so we both could live,” Kylo mumbled, voice shaking “and now you have ruined it.”

“Yes. We’re both traitors now. We will both die. Does it really matter?” 

Hux closed his eyes. Did it really matter? Maybe it did. Perhaps Kylo’s plan had been better. Yet, as cold lips carefully pressed against his, Hux found did not care. Co-dependency was in many ways like order, and Hux could not live without order.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Also, I want to apologise. Sorry, I know this story is kind of weird, but there is a lot going on in my life at the moment, and none of it is particularly good. Just the other day I got some news that really drove me over the edge, and now I’m just lost in this dark place. I really felt like I needed to write and this is all that my tired, confused brain managed produced. Now I hope I can get some sleep. 
> 
> Maybe I’ll write some more when I get my head back on track, which I will, eventually. Or, I'll read this tomorrow when I get off work, become horrified, and take it down, we'll see. 
> 
> If someone actually read this and enjoyed it, well then I am very glad you got something out of it!


End file.
